


now if I keep my eyes closed

by buckybuck (thestarsthesea)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky is disgruntled, Fluff, M/M, but it all works out in the end!, clint's a shithead, which is a small bit of a theme with me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 07:44:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14711963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsthesea/pseuds/buckybuck
Summary: loosely based off the prompt: "you fell asleep in class how many objects can I balance on your head before you wake up", only there's no class, and this isn't an au





	now if I keep my eyes closed

← ★ →

Clint's super paranoid. It's a pretty well known fact. Even when he stays in the tower he tends to keep his guard up pretty far, despite the fact that on any given day, Avenger's Tower is arguably the safest building in New York.

But still, Clint has the habit of creeping around, silently navigating the rooms and floors, so he'll be the one sneaking up on people and not the other way around. He’s notorious for using the vents more than the actual floor, and perching in the highest points of the rooms, completely undetected until he decides he wants to be.

It became a bit of a problem once Bucky moved in. Sneaking around the new and questionably safe (at least in Bucky’s point of view) home of a jumpy and paranoid former assassin isn’t the smartest thing to do. Even Clint could recognise that. So he cooled it for a few weeks, mostly stayed on his own floor, always making sure to make noise as he approached the common rooms whenever he did come out. But, well, it was never gonna last.

The first time Clint managed to catch Bucky off-guard, he almost got a knife between the eyes. He was perched in the rafters of the gym, the highest place he can manage while _inside_ the tower, and he sneezed. Bucky, who’d been working through a truly impressive workout (which Clint was enjoying immensely, but who can blame him? Bucky’s hot as the sun and just as untouchable), whipped around, pulled a knife out of God knows where, and threw it right at Clint’s head.

Luckily, the second the sneeze slipped out Clint realised what a dumb mistake it was and had already started scrambling out of the way. The knife whizzed past his ear and embedded itself a few feet behind him in the ceiling, and Bucky glared so hard at his sheepish wave that Clint’s not sure how he didn’t catch fire from the ferocity of it.

It happened a few more times after that, Clint getting the drop on Bucky, but thankfully there were no more weapons involved. After a few weeks and that handful of scares, it seemed Bucky started looking around any room he entered, if he finds Clint he gives him a tiny nod, and on one memorable occasion, a wink and an almost unnoticeable smirk. (Clint almost passed out, but thought about how much Nat and Tony would make fun of him if he fell from his perch, _again_ , and manfully stayed upright.)

They’ve come a long way from silent acknowledgments and being strangers that just happened to share a common space. Seven months, a stressful alien invasion, and almost countless shared sleepless nights later, and Clint would even dare to call them pretty good friends.

Is Bucky still hot, and would Clint really mind if they managed more than just friends? Yes he is, and no Clint wouldn’t. But Clint’s never going to let Bucky know his thoughts on those things so it doesn’t really matter, they’re just friends. Bros.

And it’s totally a friend thing to play pranks on your bros, right?

Even if they’re really scary supersoldier assassins who might not take that prank too well?

Eh, Clint’s never really had a very good self-preservation instinct.

But man, if Bucky wakes up before Clint gets bored of finding how many things he can stack on Bucky’s head, he really hopes Kate takes good care of his dog. He adds an old wii remote to the growing pile of shit balanced on Bucky’s forehead, it wobbles a little on the plastic bottle cap under it, and Clint wonders how the hell Bucky hasn’t woken up yet.

_Ten_. Maybe Bucky _is_ awake and is just waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike and choke him out in the middle of the living room.

_Eleven_. He’d probably find a way to kill Clint twice if he balanced a half full beer above him, right? So, should probably just finish that up first...

_Twelve_. Bucky still looks really nice, even with a bunch of junk stacked on his head. A lot less grumpy and murdery.

_Thirteen_. It'd actually probably be really nice to wake up to that every day. 

_Fourtee- was that the elevator?_ Clint drops the Mjolnir keychain he found in the chair cushions and jumps up, bolting for the stairs before whoever it is has a chance to catch him in the act. Or before they can wake Bucky up and he can get mad. If he's lucky, JARVIS won't squeal and Bucky will never know it was him, and he'll live to see another day.

As his foot hits the first stair he hears the distinct sound of thirteen assorted pieces of junk falling to the living room floor, followed by some violent cursing by an angry assassin. He runs faster.

He steps onto his floor casually, slowly, walking to his door like a totally normal person. No, Other Avenger and/or Bucky Barnes Himself, he was definitely _not_ just playing a prank on Bucky/you, why would you think that?

He makes himself comfortable on the couch, turning on the tv, as nonchalant as he can make himself. After ten minutes and no assassin coming down to exact any revenge, he fully relaxes into the cusions, basking in a prank well done.

He’s just found a Die Hard marathon on tv, and he’s settled in, feet up and laid back, he’s got a throw pillow and everything, when his door is pushed in, slammed into the wall hard enough that it shakes the whole room. He flails up, wildly reaching in both directions for different stashed away weapons; left and up for his bow, and right and down for a knife.

In the end he gets neither. Instead, he finds himself with a lapful of a two-hundred pound unhappy super assassin, which, still a weapon, but one that’s apparently not needed against a nonexistent intruder. Unless Bucky’s _really_ mad and Clint _will_ need something to defend himself, but he doubts he could convince Bucky to fight himself on Clint’s behalf, so still not very useful.

Bucky steals Clint’s throw pillow, tucking it against his chest while shoving his cold hand under Clint’s thigh. Bucky’s head is solidly in his lap and Clint, Clint doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do about it. He chances a cautious glance at Bucky’s face, and it’s just grumpy. Not grumpy like usual, like he wants to punch the world itself for existing, but more sleepy, like he’s mad he has to be awake at all.

Clint hasn’t moved. His hands are still frozen in the air, his body is so tense he could probably be mistaken for a statue, and he’s a little scared to breathe.

After almost two minutes of Bucky not doing anything other than sleepily blinking and scowling at John McClane, Clint takes a hesitant, and much needed, breath in. “Uh, Bucky?”

Bucky scowls further, his eyebrows dipping low over his eyes as he squints at the tv, Clint almost goes into shock as Bucky angrily nuzzles ( _nuzzles_ ) into Clint’s jeans. “You ruined my fuckin’ nap, Barton, so you better get fuckin’ comfortable cause I ain’t movin’ until I get my nap back.”

If Clint had to, he’d wager that barring an Avengers emergency, Bucky would literally try to murder his face if he so much as even _thought_ about moving for the next few hours. So Clint does the smart thing for once; he stays put. Slowly he re-relaxes into his couch cushions. He rests an arm on the armrest beside him, and after a few minutes of arguing with himself, takes a chance on gingerly resting the other on Bucky’s shoulder, when he doesn’t get shoved off, he slumps fully back into the couch; back to sprawling, just with an ornery assassin added as an obstacle.

If he wasn’t exhausted in his own way from his shitty sleep schedule, he’d surely be running around in circles in his own head; but instead, Bucky’s warm and his loose sprawl is making Clint want to take his own nap, the familiar sounds of an action movie are comforting in their own way, and he can feel himself nodding off. Before he gets there, though, he grabs the blanket he keeps on his couch just for the times he passes out in this exact spot after missions, and tosses it over Bucky’s curled legs. Clint feels the metal fingers of Bucky’s hand clench where it’s wedged under his thigh, but it doesn’t feel like a warning or anything, so Clint takes it as a silent thank you and drapes his arm back over Bucky’s shoulder.

Clint lets himself fall into a half-sleep, he floats there for a while, absently aware of yelling and explosions as Die Hard continues to play in the background. The memory of Bucky’s lax face when he sleeps, the way the lines that usually live between his brows disappear, the light flush on his cheeks, the way his mouth was slightly parted, it all languidly floats into Clint’s mind, and he realises he’d really like to see that again. Often. Maybe super up close.

His eyes blink open and he looks down, trying to see if Bucky’s asleep, but it’s hard to tell, and he doesn’t want to move just in case Bucky has actually fallen back to sleep. He swallows and shakes his head but he still can’t get the thought of waking up next to Bucky (for real, in his bed, in the morning) out of his mind. 

“Hey Buck?” his voice is barely a whisper, and if he were actually awake, or if he’d gotten enough rest over the past week, he’d never have even opened his mouth. For a second Bucky doesn’t say anything, and Clint feels relieved with the thought he got a second chance and can keep his thoughts to himself, but then Bucky hums a question mark, and the rest tumbles out unbidden. “We should do this again sometime. The movie thing, not the sleeping together at the same time thing. At least not the first time, anyway, that never ends well for me in the long run.” Bucky’s fingers squeeze his thigh again and he trails off, abruptly realising what was coming out of his mouth. 

Clint’s suddenly brought right back to wide awake, then to rapidly weighing the pros and cons of catapulting over the back of the couch and fleeing the tower (and possibly the country). He figures he might have a slight advantage over a sleepy Bucky, and can probably make it if he goes _now_ and doesn’t let Bucky really figure out what the hell Clint was implying - 

“Does it have to be Die Hard?” Bucky’s voice is a little raspy and low, and it cuts through Clint’s thoughts like they’re butter.

“What?” His own voice is high, and he’s a little out of breath. He probably stopped breathing out of embarrassment, and maybe a little fear, because, well, it’s not every day he essentially propositions a world renowned assassin in a word vomit of sleep deprivation. 

“The movie. Does it have to be Die Hard or can we watch something else?” Bucky doesn’t sound mocking or irritated or anything like that, just honest and still pretty sleepy.

“Um,” Clint swallows, his brain sluggishly restarting, trying to catch up to what’s going on. “No, no it can be whatever you want.”

Bucky hums, he shifts, making himself more comfortable in Clint’s lap. “Good, I’m tired of explosions. See enough of ‘em in real life.”

Clint doesn’t really know what to say to that, and he’s a little scared if he says much more he’ll either wake up from this dream, or Bucky will change his mind if, by some miracle, Clint isn’t asleep and this is really happening. 

“How many movies do we have to watch before we can do the sleeping at the same time thing again?” Clint can’t help the involuntary jerk that goes through him at that. In the (very few) times he’s indulged in any fantasy about Bucky, he never thought he’d ever get this far. Not even at his best and most charming.

He’s still not sure this isn’t a dream. “Um? Three? Maybe?”

Bucky shifts, sliding his hand out from beneath Clint’s leg. Clint thinks _oh god, I fucked up, I said too much and ruined this friendship before it really even got started_. But Bucky merely sits up, making himself comfortable next to Clint as opposed to on, but still close enough that Clint can feel the warmth of his body through their clothes. 

Bucky tosses half the blanket onto Clint’s lap, he crosses his arms and stares at the tv screen, no hint at all that a minute ago he was half asleep. “I changed my mind, Die Hard’s perfect.”

It takes him a dazed minute of staring at Bucky’s profile, but eventually Clint turns back to the movie himself, watching numbly as the commercial break comes to an end, the screen proudly proclaiming: _You’re watching the Die Hard Marathon. Die Hard, Die Hard 2, and Die Hard with a Vengeance_ playing all weekend long. 

He swallows. “Oh.”

Bucky hums and Clint sees him smile softly from the corner of his eye, and thinks again, _oh_ , taking another chance, he leans until their shoulders touch; getting comfortable and quietly hoping neither of them will hold Clint to his three movie rule.

(They ended up both falling asleep before Die Hard 2 even started, and waking up with a cricked neck due to sleeping on a metal arm, to Bucky’s soft grin and bright eyes? Even better than his sleeping face, Clint can, and will proudly, confirm.)

← ★ →

**Author's Note:**

> I have..... Not written since 2016. And I know that shows, glaringly, in this fic lol  
> I wanna write all the damn time,but do I? Absolutely NOT! I just sit around thinking about it instead of actually kicking my way through the doubts and blocks and attempting to improve at all hah hah..... :/
> 
> Anyway, enough excuses, here's the business:  
> Title Credit: Eyes Closed by Halsey. It was literally on when I came to this part and I had no title so it, I just worked with what I had okay lol  
> Disclaimer: my iron man helmet bucket is telepathically informing you all that I don't own any of the people or things you recognise in this fanfiction
> 
> Not beta'd cause it's been so long since I've written anything that I didn't wanna bother one of the lovely individuals who used to do it for me. So any mistakes are mine, and I apologise for them :-*
> 
> I hope at least some of you enjoy this messy little bit of nonsense I'm throwing into the pile of works this fandom produces. Maybe I'll write more one day, we'll see!  
> <333


End file.
